


Rook's Name

by cozythunderstorm



Series: Rook's Prologue [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fae & Fairies, Homebrew Content, Homebrew Setting, Implied Sexual Content, King's Road, Minor Character Death, Some Combat, Warlock Pacts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozythunderstorm/pseuds/cozythunderstorm
Summary: Three fics based on three level 0 Dungeons & Dragons adventures I ran 1-on-1 for my girlfriend, to explain how her character became a warlock.Part 3 - The prologue comes to its conclusion, as on the shortest night of the year Rook is forced to make a difficult decision, and deal with its unforeseen consequences.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Rook's Prologue [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582087
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a level 0 D&D game that my girlfriend and I played to explain how her character became a warlock.
> 
> Part 3 of 3

It was finally Midsummer in Willamett’s End.

It was one of the finest summers Rook could remember. There had already been a decent harvest early in the season, and it looked like most of the village would get another before the autumn sowing began in earnest. At the inn, Galen’s kitchen was overflowing with peaches and wild strawberries, it had been such a good year for them. And over the last few weeks, anticipation for the Midsummer festival could not have been higher. Rowan and Rilsa had worked tirelessly on an exceptionally large dance floor to put down on the green—it looked like half the village would be able to dance on it at once. Most exciting of all was that just a few days ago, a harper had arrived in Willamett’s End. 

She had come by surprise, alone and unarmed, singing as she strolled past fields and pastures and walked up to the inn. She gave her name as Caeridwen, and spent each evening telling stories to rapt crowds that packed into the common room to hear her. The innkeepers let Rook be the one to keep the harper supplied with fresh drinks as she spoke, so Rook got to hear each tale up close. Her skill with stories was exceptional, but despite the hopes and pleas of the villagers she never opened the black case that she had carried in on her back. That would change tonight, as Caeridwen had promised to pull out her harp on Midsummer’s Eve, and everyone in town was looking forward to it.

The summer sun was winding its way down across the afternoon. Rook had just taken a break from helping a thoroughly overworked Galen with the festival cooking in order to serve Caeridwen a cold lunch of cured meat and cheese, although she did snatch a pair of small rosemary loaves that were cooling by the oven on her way out. She passed them to the harper with a smile, and had gone behind the bar to pour her a drink when the door to the inn opened. Rook looked up, expecting to see the baker or an alewife or a fisherman with a delivery for the festival, and almost dropped the mug in her hand when she saw Alyona step inside.

She was wearing a blue-grey dress and a white linen shirt, tied in front with a matching blue ribbon. The ribbon holding back her long brown hair, however, matched her eyes, which lit up when they fell on Rook. Rook grinned back and ran to meet her, scooping her up in her arms and spinning in a circle. Alyona laughed as her feet left the floor.

“Hey,” Rook said when she set Alyona down, unable to make her smile any smaller.

Alyona smiled back, her cheeks dark. “Hello, Bridget. Do you mind helping me carry this in?” She motioned at a sack of flour resting against the door frame.

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Rook bent and hefted the bag onto one shoulder. 

Alyona watched, a subtle smile on her lips. “There’s one more that I was supposed to bring down from the mill,” she said. “Would you...mind helping me carry it?” She looked up at Rook, her expression hopeful.

Rook grinned. “Hang on.” She carried the sack of flour into the busy kitchen and dropped it by the pantry door. “Galen, I’m going to fetch the last sack of flour!” she called.

“Make sure it’s barley, not rye,” Galen shouted back, sliding a plate of chopped vegetables into a steaming pot.

“Barley, got it.” Rook ducked back into the common room and offered Alyona her arm. Smiling, she took it, and they left the inn together.

The mill sat on a hill overlooking the eastern end of the village, up a wide dirt path that ran north from the inn and the village square. Alyona and her mother lived in a squat cottage next to the windmill, the door of which was open and belching flour. As they approached Alyona jerked hard on Rook’s arm and pulled her around the back of the house, out of sight of the village and the open mill door. In the long shadow of the building they kissed, Alyona pulling Rook’s head down to hers, Rook holding Alyona by the small of her back while her other hand pressed against the wall.

They separated flushed and grinning at each other. Rook still wasn't used to this. It had been six months since their kiss at Midwinter, but only two since the first time they had spent the night together. It was on the tail end of mud season. Rook was working at the inn again, after spending more than a month kidding goats back at the farm. Alyona had dropped by to see her late one evening, and was one of only a few villagers in the inn when a sudden thunderstorm swept down into the valley with a terrible fury. Rather than send people home through the blinding rain and flashing thunder, Elias had Rook get rooms ready for everyone to spend the night. Alyona got her own room, and Rook ended up on a cot by the embers of the kitchen cookfire.

Lying on the hearth in the dark, Rook strained to catch the sounds of people settling down over the rain lashing against the shutters and the occasional crack of thunder. She forced herself to wait as long as she could before climbing out of bed and stealing silently up the stairs. She paused outside Alyona’s door, and knocked as softly as she dared.

There was no response. Did she knock loud enough? Thunder boomed outside, and continued to roll across the sky as the wind pulled vainly at the walls around her. Rook pushed gently at the door, and found it was unlocked. Taking a deep breath, Rook slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

A small fire burned in the fireplace, casting the room in long shadows and warm orange light. Alyona stood in front of it, stockings off and looking freshly scrubbed. She looked up as Rook shut the door. They stood regarding each other, alone together as the storm raged outside. Despite the months and kisses they had shared together since Midwinter, they were suddenly shy. Blushing, eyes darting up to eyes, lips, back down at their own hands, they closed the distance between them. Alyona giggled. Rook let out a breath, half smile and half sigh, and kissed her. Alyona kissed back, fiercely. Their bodies sank into each other in the firelight and the sound of pounding rain.

Their lips separated with a half-caught breath. Alyona’s face was shining, her dark eyes warm and full of wonder. Closing them again she kissed Rook softly, slowly. Then, so quiet that she was barely audible over the drum of rain, Alyona said Rook’s true name.

A shock went through Rook. She felt the syllables resonate through her entire body, pulling her towards Alyona as if her voice were a net that had surrounded Rook completely. The name _was_ her, in a way that Rook had never understood before, and she was on Alyona’s lips, on her tongue, in the air between them. Alyona opened her eyes, and Rook felt rush of vulnerability and admiration, of yearning and love that threatened to overwhelm her completely. Like a dam giving way, Rook picked Alyona up and carried her over to the bed.

Later that night they lay naked together under the blankets, pressed together as the fire burned low. Alyona’s eyes were closed, her head resting on Rook’s breast. She nuzzled closer, breathing in Rook’s scent. “I love you, too,” she sighed.

Rook held Alyona tightly in her arms. Her eyes were wet. Sleep found them still holding each other, warm and safe from the storm outside.

Behind the mill on Midsummer's Eve, Rook and Alyona did their best to regain their composure before heading around to where Tanya the miller was working. Even so, they couldn't help but cast small glances and conspiratorial smiles at each other as they picked up Galen's sack of barley flour. Rook thought she saw Tanya roll her eyes at them before turning her attention back to the spinning millstones. 

With the bag of flour successfully thrown over Rook's shoulder, she and Alyona made their escape. They giggled halfway down the hill until Rook said, “I’m sure she knows.”

Alyona snorted. “Of course she does. But as long as I’m not sneaking off to spend nights at the inn—on purpose,” she added with a blush, “—then there’s nothing she can complain about.”

They stopped outside the inn. The sun was dipping towards the western peaks and the day was turning gold. Alyona turned to Rook and clasped her hands behind her back. “I’ll see you at the festival tonight?” she asked. “I hope you’ll save the first dance for me.”

Rook grinned. “I’m saving all the dances for you.” Setting the flour down by her feet, she leaned over and kissed her. 

She felt Alyona smile as they kissed. “Perfect,” she said when they parted. With one last wave, she started back up towards the mill. Rook watched her go, her chest so full of happiness she felt it might burst. Only when she remembered how much work there was to do before the festival did she heft the flour again and head back into the inn.

Inside, next to the bar, Elias stood talking with Tala. They both turned as Rook walked in, and the village priestess’s grey eyes fell on her with the weight of stone. “Bridget,” she said. “There you are.”

Rook stopped in her tracks. She had spent a good portion of the last six months at Tala’s cottage, learning a rite of protection against dark spirits. It had been taxing, difficult work, and although Tala never lost her patience with Rook, she was a stern teacher. Her sudden appearance in the inn felt like a cloud moving across the sun. Something wasn’t right.

“Um, yes, I’m here,” she stammered, still holding the sack of flour. “What’s going on?”

“Here, Bridget, let me carry that.” Elias took the flour from her. He gave Rook an encouraging smile, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Tala hadn’t taken her eyes off Rook. “I came to inform you that you will be spending Midsummer’s Eve at Teisen’s cottage,” she said.

Cold disbelief poured over Rook’s heart. “ _What?_ What do you mean, I’m spending the night at Teisen’s cottage?”

Tala’s mouth creased into a frown. “We... _discussed_ long and late over where you would be safest. I thought you would do best under the watchful eye of the gods, but Teisen was adamant that her knowledge of the woods and its denizens would provide better protection.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of the younger woman’s opinion, but Rook’s mind was still trying to make sense of what Tala was saying.

“You mean I can’t go to the festival?” she asked desperately. “Why not?”

Tala raised an eyebrow. “The Nøkken is most active tonight, yes? That is what your... _acquaintance_ in the forest said.” Her voice was hard with disapproval as she obliquely referenced Rusalka, who Rook hadn’t seen in a year. “That of all nights, Midsummer’s Eve is when he is most dangerous. And the warning he left with Teron last winter did not leave much room to doubt his intentions for you.”

Rook’s thoughts raced in circles, but she couldn’t stop the reality of what was happening from settling onto her shoulders with a terrible weight. “But—but why can’t I attend the festival? Surely he won’t come down to the village square, not with everyone there!”

Steel flashed in the priestess’s eyes. “And if he does?” she asked sharply. “Or if we lose you in the throng, or you wander off like you did a year ago? How many more would you bring this trouble of yours down upon, Bridget?”

“I won’t wander off, I’m not a fool!”

“Your past decisions certainly speak to the contrary!”

Rook’s face blanched, and Tala closed her mouth tightly around her words. Seeing Rook’s shoulders fall, her face softened. “I am sorry, Bridget. Perhaps next year we will not need such precautions.” She shook her head. “Gather what you need for the night and head up to Teisen’s cottage. I’ve already asked Elias to set some of the feast aside and send it up for you there.” With that said, she turned from Rook and left the inn. The door closed hard behind her, leaving Rook feeling empty and cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raunchy Flashback Details purposefully omitted. my girlfriend and i were playing D&D, just by ourselves, late at night, in our studio apartment. i'm sure you can fill in the details


	2. Chapter 2

The setting sun painted the mountain valley in bright reds and golds, the last rays of daylight lingering as if they, too, were savoring a warm and sweet evening on the longest day of the year. The village of Willamett’s End was already cast in the shadow of the mountain, however, and as Rook climbed the hill away from the inn and towards the northeastern edge of the woods, she could see fire baskets being lit in the village square. In a daze she had changed into her festival clothes—a clean linen shirt, and a woolen jerkin that had her deck of cards and the smoking pipe Alyona had carved her in the pockets—and left the inn with barely a word. She now stopped long enough to take in the view of Willamett’s End as the sun set, the village’s farms and pastures cupped in the mountain’s hand and wrapped in the green cloak of the forest. Then, turning off the path to Teisen’s cottage, she made her way to the mill.

Alyona answered when she knocked on the door. Her smile faded to a look of concern when she saw Rook’s face. “Bridget? What’s wrong?”

Rook swallowed a harsher, more resentful explanation, and relayed what Tala had said. Disbelief filled Alyona’s face as Rook spoke, and when she had finished Alyona said, “But—but that’s not fair! They can’t just—” She stopped, looking up at Rook leaning defeatedly on the doorframe. Sorrow filled Alyona’s eyes, and she said quietly, “We were going to dance together.”

Something in Rook’s chest tightened painfully. She pressed her lips together and stared at the ground. “We can dance next year,” she said, but she couldn’t keep the bitter anger from her voice.

She felt Alyona’s hand on her arm and looked up. Alyona gave her a sad but genuine smile. “I’ll go with you.”

“What?” Rook blinked in surprise. “Alyona, I can’t ask that of you.”

Alyona shook her head. “How can you ask me not to?”

Rook opened her mouth, but didn’t have anything to say. Alyona smiled again, more brightly this time, and said, “Let me get my cloak. And explain this to my mother.”

Rooked waited outside as Alyona disappeared back into the mill. The sun had just disappeared behind the horizon when she reemerged with a light summer cloak around her shoulders. She slipped her hand around Rook’s arm with a smile. Rook smiled back. Feeling a little better about the night, she led the way up the hill and towards the northeastern edge of the woods.

Teisen lived with Kajsa, the village huntress, in a two-room cottage far from everything except the forest. It took Teisen a few moments to open the door after they knocked. “Come in,” she said, limping back to let them through. Her cottage was a well-crowded disaster, lit by the fireplace and a mess of candles, with herbs hanging from the rafters, odd jars and clay pots stacked everywhere, and a table that was piled with healer’s tools, ingredients, and even a book. “Kajsa is out,” Teisen said. “Patrolling the woods and keeping an eye out for...trouble.” She glanced at Rook. “She’ll be out most of the night. Go on, sit down.”

Rook and Alyona sat at the table, exchanging a glance. Teisen stayed standing, and waved off their offers of help as she went about the cottage on her cane, hanging pieces of iron and rowan wood above the windows and doors, muttering quietly. When she seemed to be satisfied with whatever protections she had put up around them, she set about making a pot of green tea before clearing a space at the table and sitting down with Alyona and Rook.

The silence stretched tight as the three of them waited for the tea to steep. Teisen cleared her throat. “So,” she said, pouring tea into three small, chipped clay mugs. “What would you like to do?”

Rook and Alyona looked at each other. “Well…” Rook put a hand on her pocket. “I have a deck of cards?”

“Glyph cards?” Teisen asked. Rook nodded, pulling out the deck and placing it on the table. “Do you know your glyphs?” Teisen inquired, looking between Rook and Alyona. “Can you read, either of you?”

“I can’t,” Rook said, and Alyona shook her head.

Teisen’s lips pursed. “Well, cards like these are not a poor way to begin learning them. Look.” She turned over the top card of the deck onto the table. An inked illustration of a winding road took up most of the card, but near the bottom a single glyph centered the frame. Four more glyphs, each more complicated than the symbol in the center, marked the card’s four corners.

Teisen tapped the center glyph with her fingertip. “The Road,” she said. “That is what this symbol means. Though many glyphs have several meanings, even greater implications can be drawn when different glyphs are placed together. Like people, they say many things through the relationships that they share.”

Alyona glanced at Rook with a small smile, and Rook reached under the table to give her hand a squeeze.

Teisen was pointing at one of the more complicated glyphs in the corners. Rook looked at it, and realized that half of the glyph was the symbol from the center of the card, and the other half was something new. “A person of the road,” Teisen said. “A traveller. What kind depends again on the context of the glyphs it is paired with—a person of many roads is a wanderer, but a person of dark roads is a stranger. And this,” she said, pointing to another corner. “These glyphs read, ‘the long road,’ but what they  _ mean _ is a journey. For which is the longest road but the one that takes us away from home?”

“How many glyphs are there?” Rook asked, turning over a second card and examining it.

“Some thousand, I believe.” Teisen chuckled at the expressions on Rook and Alyona’s faces as they looked at her in surprise. “I assure you, the difficulty is not in their memorization, but interpretation. But,” she said, sipping her tea, “We can call this lesson short, and play a game with these cards instead.”

They played cards as darkness truly fell outside. Galen and Maedran did eventually stopped by with food from the feast—whole peaches, chicken and vegetable rosemary pies, pumpernickel rolls, cinnamon brambleberry cobbler, and even a wineskin full of lavender ale. They were both frustratingly—and purposefully, Rook was sure—evasive when relaying details of the festival, especially when it came to the harper’s songs that Rook and Alyona were missing. At the very least, Galen promised to set some strawberry cream tarts aside for them to have in the morning.

They dug into the food as the innkeepers walked back to the village, Teisen making sure to set some of the feast aside for Kajsa when she returned. She made more tea after dinner as well, and the three of them sat at the table with the windows open, sipping slowly while the soft night air carried in the scents of summer.

Sitting next to Alyona with their hands clasped surreptitiously beneath the table, Rook realized that she could hear music. She craned her neck out the window, and saw the glimmer of firelight in the distant village. Alyona followed her gaze, head unconsciously bobbing to the dancing tune that came drifting up on the summer breeze. Their eyes met.

Rook grinned. “Would you care for a dance?”

Sunlight beamed from Alyona’s smile, and she nodded. Hand in hand, they almost ran out of Teisen’s cottage and out onto the grassy hill. The music was distant, but clear, and that was all they needed. Laughing, they whirled around each other, feet spinning and their hands never far apart. Teisen slowly followed them outside as they danced along with the faraway tune, smiling wistfully as she lowered herself onto the wooden bench by her door.

Song after song, Rook and Alyona danced together on the hill overlooking Willamett’s End, with the forest behind them and the full moon lighting up the sky. They danced until they collapsed in the cold grass with ringing laughter and heavy breaths. Teisen called them to come back inside, but they lingered, staring into each other’s eyes, hands clasped on the hard ground.

“Maybe this isn’t so bad,” Rook said.

Alyona smiled. “It really isn’t.”

They didn’t let go of each other as they stumbled back into Teisen’s cottage. Music continued to float in through the open door, a fiddle tune sweeter than honey. The older woman poured them mugs of cool well water, and set about making them all a fresh pot of tea. By the time the kettle was whistling, Alyona and Rook were leaning together in their seats, heads and shoulders touching, fast asleep.

Rook awoke to the sound of someone shouting. She lifted her head from the hard table, blinking and looking around. Teisen stirred as well, sitting up from where she had fallen asleep and rubbing her eyes. Turning, Rook saw Kajsa running towards the cottage door, which was standing open to the night. She looked back, and her heart stopped.

Alyona was gone.

Rook threw herself to her feet as Kajsa stormed into the cottage. A full quiver sat on her hip, and she had something in her hand. It was Alyona’s hair ribbon, the one Rook had given her last Midwinter. It was covered in mud.

“No,” Rook whispered.

Kajsa growled, “What. Happened.”

Teisen looked from the ribbon to Rook. Rook met her gaze, eyes wide, fear and shock gnawing at her from the inside out. It was a mistake, it had to be. There was something wrong with her heart. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Teisen closed her eyes and took a long breath in. “The Nøkken’s fiddle-song can pull mortals towards his pool. I should not have let us step outside, should not have risked weakening the protections.” She opened her eyes, and they were heavy with failure and pain. “I thought he would come for you,” she said, and Rook looked away, desperately hoping Teisen wouldn’t say what she was about to. “I should have known better.”

Kajsa threw the ribbon down on the table and pulled her self bow out of the quiver on her belt. She stepped over the length of wood and strung it in a single, smooth motion. “I found her ribbon in the forest, caught in a bramble heading straight for the heart of the woods.” She slung the bow over her shoulder and moved to put a fresh candle in her paper lantern.

“I’m coming with you.” Rook didn’t wait for Kajsa to announce her intentions. 

The huntress shoved the lantern into Rook’s hands. “Then you’d better keep up,” she said, low and hard, and strode out of the cottage with long, swift strides. Rook ran after her, leaving Teisen standing alone at her door under the patchy light of the moon.

Kajsa and Rook charged through the forest, running as fast as they could in the darkness without stumbling over roots and falling into summer brooks. The woods were much darker than last Midsummer’s Eve. Clouds blocked the full moon, and the trees seemed to press in close against the light of Rook’s candle lantern. Kajsa led them swiftly down game trails and the up the fastest sides of wooded slopes, blazing a path straight for the pool that they dragged Teron out of last Midwinter. Rook kept up with her, matching the huntress’s longer strides with two of her own. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she clenched her jaw tight as she ran. Her body screamed, but she kept pace with Kajsa, never flagging or falling behind.

_ This can’t be happening. _ The thought ran through her mind again and again. It kept pace with her even as her lungs burned, biting at her heels, running ahead into the dark night.  _ She can’t be hurt. She can’t be.  _ Rook held the light high as the smooth rushing of the stream came within earshot.  _ This is all my fault. _

They burst through the treeline and emerged on the shores of Nøkken’s pool. It was wider now than it had been last winter, and the waterfall that roared down from the high, rocky ledge was opaquely silver in the muted moonlight. There was no one there.

“Stay  _ here _ ,” Kajsa snarled with a forcefulness that shocked Rook still. The huntress wasted no time plunging into the pool, wading up to the waterfall and disappearing behind the curtain of pounding water. Rook blinked, standing with the lantern in the dark for a few moments before gritting her teeth and striking out into the water herself. But before she had gotten deeper than her boots, Kajsa reappeared, wiping wet hair out of her eyes and cursing.

“Just an empty cave,” she shouted as she waded back across the pool. She grabbed Rook by the shoulders. “Where else could they be?  _ Where could he have taken her? _ ”

“I don’t know!” Rook tried to think. Could the Nøkken have taken Alyona to a faerie revel, like the one he attended last year? But she wasn’t sure she could even find that meadow again without Rusalka’s help. And what reason would the Nøkken have to drag other faeries into this? Rook shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Kajsa stifled another oath and pushed past Rook, heading back into the woods. “I’ll head back to the cottage and follow her trail from there.”

Rook started after her. “I’ll help—”

The huntress turned on her. “Help?  _ You?” _ Kajsa’s voice was strained, furious. “We are here because you had not the good sense or wisdom to leave well enough alone. This is all  _ your fault!” _

The words entered Rook’s heart like a spear. Light from the lantern danced on the trees as she stopped like she had run into a wall.

Kajsa’s glare didn’t waver. “Go find Tala if you wish to  _ help. _ ” Turning, she ran off into the forest and disappeared into the night. Rook stayed standing still, left in the dark woods with just a lantern, all alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing this broke my heart, i swear to god. Being a DM is hard sometimes ;_;


	3. Chapter 3

The huntress left Rook standing alone in the forest, with nothing but a paper lantern and the whispering of the trees. Rook stared at the shadowy trail Kajsa had taken, breathing heavily. Then she turned and began walking deeper into the woods.

“Ember,” she called, her voice hoarse at first. “Ember?” Her stride lengthened as she picked up speed. “Ember, I need—”

“Rook?”

The voice behind her was quiet, surprised. Rook spun around, lantern up. Ember stood less than a dozen paces away, wearing the same clothes, the same red cloak. Her face was half-shadowed under her hood, but her eyes shifted and glowed like hot coals in the darkness.

“Nøkken took Alyona,” Rook said. Her eyes stung as she said it out loud. “He’s doing it to get back at me, and I couldn’t stop him. I don’t know where he’s taken her.”

Ember paused, as if considering her words carefully. “I...I believe I do.”

Relief washed through Rook like a waterfall. “Where? Let’s go, before it’s too—”

“Rook, you cannot go after them.”

“What?” Rook’s eyes snapped up to Ember. Her voice rose. “Why  _ not?” _

Ember’s eyes flashed. “Why should I assist you in rushing off to meet your death, human girl?” She raised her chin, and her voice took on a harder tone than Rook had ever heard her use. “Run back to your home, Rook. Get help. Someone may know how to stop him. You might even make it in time.”

Rook ground her teeth together. Ember’s words, Kajsa’s scolding, her own powerlessness weighed her down like stones. She shouted at Ember, “That will take too long! She might  _ die!” _

“But you will live.”

Rook stood up straight and stared defiantly into Ember’s burning eyes. “I’d give my life to save hers, if that’s what it took.”

Ember’s gaze softened, all trace of her sudden imperiousness gone in an instant. She hesitated, reluctant to speak. “There...may be another way,” she said quietly. “But it will not be easy. And the price is high.”

“I’ll do it,” Rook said without a second of hesitation.

It was difficult to tell in the candlelight, but Rook thought she saw Ember’s expression grow troubled. She stepped forward, closer to Rook. “I can grant you the power to defeat the Nøkken, to save her,” Ember said. “But you must know with whom you are dealing for it.”

Ember pulled back her hood. Flame-red hair fell to her shoulders in waves, and for the first time Rook fully saw the unnatural beauty of her face, pale and dusted with freckles. Emerging from Ember's hair were two dark horns that swept back along the curve of her head, pointing up and towards each other over the back of her neck. Rook’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t step back.

“I am a demon of Chaos,” Ember said. “A spirit of shadow and flame. Where I walk, the rule of Man crumbles. When I speak, the surety of Law is corrupted. My will is a burning ember on the dry kindle of all life.” She took another step closer and looked Rook in the eyes. “Are you certain you want my help?”

Rook took a few deep breaths. Then, meeting Ember’s gaze, she said, “Yes.”

Ember searched her face for a few moments longer, then nodded. “So be it. Follow me.”

The horned woman started off into the woods, and Rook followed close behind her. She found open game trails with such ease that it seemed like the woods were parting to let them travel more quickly, and seemed to close again behind them as they passed. “When was she taken?” Ember asked. “The girl from your village.”

“I’m not sure. Less than an hour ago?”

“Then time is also our enemy.” Ember’s pace quickened. “She is enchanted, and the Nøkken will not let you drag her away like you did the child last year. He will slay you if you do not kill him first.”

Rook’s breath hitched. “I understand.” She had never killed anything before. She didn’t even help her mother slaughter the old goats that wouldn’t make it through the winter. But she had meant what she said. She would do anything to save Alyona.

“The Nøkken, like his brothers the fossegrim and the strömkarl, has a fatal weakness,” Ember said. “He will die if he ever hears his true name spoken aloud.”

Rook nodded, and waited for Ember to continue.

“I do not know the Nøkken‘s true name.”

Rook stumbled, and had to catch up with Ember as she stepped through two trees grown close together. “But—”

“If you are to save this girl, you will need to be able to issue a command stronger than the enchantment of the Nøkken‘s song.” She glanced at Rook. “And you will need the resilience to resist it yourself.”

Their path led them to a line of trees, but Ember paused before stepping through. “Once you have freed her from his spell, you must end him.” Her face was somber, distant. Her eyes burned with their own light in the darkness. “But to grant you this power, we must make a pact.” Before Rook had the chance to say anything, Ember stepped out from beneath the trees. Rook followed her into a familiar clearing. Up on its hill beneath a cloudy night sky, the ruined church of an older age seemed darker, more foreboding than Rook remembered it. Ember quickly walked up to its empty doorframe and the two of them stepped inside.

It was darker without the light of the full moon streaming in through the space where the church’s roof used to be. At the far end of the grassy interior, the stained glass window was muted and dark. From the small circle of light her lantern cast, Rook couldn’t even make out the image of the winged woman that she remembered from a year ago.

Ember followed her gaze to the back of the church. “Angels,” she sniffed. “Self-righteous servants of the sun and stars. Do not worry. They will not interfere.” She turned back to Rook. “Put the lantern down.”

Rook did as she was told. The dim, flickering flame lit up their faces from below, and strange shadows danced on the ivy-covered stone walls of the church. They faced each other, a mere hand’s breadth apart.

“The pact is simple,” Ember said, her expression serious. “You accept my brand, which will act as a conduit for my power.”

Rook’s eyebrows raised at the word  _ brand _ , but she stayed silent.

“Once you are branded, we will share a connection,” Ember continued. “One not lightly or easily broken. But it will give you the power you need to save the girl that you love.”

Rook nodded. The shaking in her hands had stopped at some point. She squared her shoulders and said, “I’m ready.”

Ember bit her lip. “There is one more thing. The pact is...not without cost.”

Rook’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”

Ember looked almost sad. “You must give me your true name.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rook stared at Ember, mouth parted in confusion. “My true name—what? Why?”

Ember spread her hands. “Were the balance of your soul not weighed in favor of Law, perhaps the price could be lower.” She gestured at herself. Her horns cast ghastly shadows in the candlelight. “But I am a spirit of Chaos. If you are to wield my magic, we must rebalance the scales.”

Rook’s face screwed up, and she stared down at the paper lantern in thought. This seemed wrong. Everything Teisen told her about names screamed in her head and told her not to do this. But Alyona needed her. She looked back up at Ember.

The demon raised a hand. “Before you speak, know this. You will not simply be telling me your true name. You will be giving it to me.” She took the smallest step closer, eyes locked on Rook’s. They smoldered and glowed, but her face was soft, almost apologetic. “I cannot sever it from you—not even I have the power to render you nameless—but I must take it into my possession for this bargain to work. Knowledge of your true name will flee from you, and you will be unable to tell it to anyone else. Only I will be able to use its power over you.” Ember’s burning gaze pierced her. “Are you certain that you wish to do this?”

Rook looked down, her thoughts full of Alyona speaking her name, of how it felt to be completely seen and understood and held by her voice when she whispered it in Rook’s embrace. She would lose that, if she took Ember’s deal. She would lose Alyona if she didn’t.

Rook’s eyes widened. Alyona.  _ Alyona knew her true name.  _ Even if she forgot, Alyona could remind her. She would still be tied to Ember, to a demon, but—but maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t lose everything.

Rook looked back up at Ember, her face determined. "I'm certain."

Ember searched her expression, but Rook remained resolute. "Very well," she said. "Take off your shirt and jerkin."

Rook moved quickly, turning her back on Ember and pulling off her outer layers. "My binder as well?" she asked.

"Unless you would like my brand on your face, yes."

With a nod, Rook stripped to the waist and threw her clothes in a pile by the lantern. The summer air was surprisingly cool against her bare skin. She heard Ember step up behind her, and was about to turn around when the demon pressed herself up against Rook's back. She wrapped her left arm tight around Rook's waist, and placed her other hand firmly on Rook's left shoulder blade. Rook stiffened. Ember's hands burned hot on her skin. Her breath caught as Ember's cheek touched her ear from over her other shoulder.

"Breathe," Ember whispered. Rook released the breath she was holding. "Close your eyes. Feel the movement of power in the world around you."

Hesitating for only a moment, Rook closed her eyes. In the dark, she felt the weight of the earth beneath her feet. She felt the trees of the forest, shifting, speaking in their wordless tongue, felt their roots growing deep and connecting below the stones of the mountain. She felt the whispers of the wind, the age of the stones around her, the bright clarity of the moon above. "I...I feel it."

"And me?"

Rook jerked in Ember's grasp. The demon was like a bonfire behind her, burning so hot that Rook was sure she would be consumed in the flames. Her eyes snapped open, and the sensation disappeared instantly. Rook was suddenly very aware of the softness of Ember’s skin, the curve of her body, the gentleness of her voice as she spoke.

"After this, nothing in your life will be the same. I will give you one last chance to turn away from this path." Ember paused, and Rook felt her heart pounding in her chest. "A pact forged with your assent thrice given is no trifling bond. You must be sure that this is worth it. So I will ask you one final time."

Rook held her breath as Ember leaned in even closer. When the demon spoke, it was barely a whisper.

"Will you be mine?"

The question hung in the air, surrounding them, wrapping them both in its coils.

"Yes."

Fire shot through Rook, molten steel from her left shoulder piercing right through her heart. She screamed in pain. She didn’t feel herself fall, barely felt strong arms catch her and guide her to the ground. All she knew was the burning pain as it spread like fire through her entire body.

And then it was over. She was on her knees, smoke rolling off of her and dissipating into the air. The grass in a wide circle around her had been burned to cinders, and Ember was holding her. Rook took a ragged, gasping breath.

“Shh, shh,” Ember said, rocking her gently. "I've got you. It's over. It's done."

Rook blinked back tears and looked down at herself. She was unharmed—her trousers weren’t even singed. The only difference she could feel was an uncomfortable heat that continued to burn on her left shoulder, where Ember’s hand had been.

Ember helped her stand. When she was sure Rook could stand on her own, she retrieved Rook’s clothes for her. Rook nodded in thanks and pulled them back on, wincing as her shirt pressed against the burn on her back.

“The pain will fade, in time,” Ember said. “But for now, there is little time left to lose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done. Our girl is officially a warlock now. Still down a few class features, though


	5. Chapter 5

Ember led Rook away from the old church and back into the depths of the forest. Rook could still feel Ember’s brand burning on her left shoulder, and had to grit her teeth whenever her linen shirt shifted across it. She didn’t let herself think too long about what she had just done. There would be time for that  _ after _ Alyona was safe.

They stopped beneath the boughs of a spreading beech tree. Ember turned to Rook. “We are almost there. In the future I will need to teach you spells, but for tonight, your instincts will have to do.” She held out her hand, grasping at air. Smoke coalesced from nowhere, seeping into her grip until it solidified into a large, heavy iron knife. Ember winced, and handed the knife to Rook. “I care little for iron. But the Nøkken?” She let the question hang.

Rook hefted the knife in one hand. It was heavier than it looked, a dark, brutal piece of solid metal. Ember’s fiery eyes were somber as she watched her.

“Sink it into his heart,” she said. “He will hurt no one ever again.”

Rook nodded and tucked the knife into her belt. “So where is she?”

A small smile touched Ember’s lips. “Have you not yet guessed?” She turned and led Rook through the trees until they emerged once again at Nøkken’s waterfall.

Rook looked around, glancing back at Ember in confusion. The demon walked down to the water’s edge, the soles of her boots splashing into the shallows. Rook’s brow furrowed as she followed, setting the lantern down and wading in after Ember. “We already looked, there was no one here.”

“The Nøkken loves his riddles,” Ember said. She gestured at the waterfall, but her gaze remained on the surface of the pool. “He makes his home behind a veil of water. You have all the pieces. What is the answer that’s staring you in the face?”

Rook stared at Ember, then followed her gaze down into the pool. At first she saw nothing. Then she blinked, and something shifted. In the dark reflection of the water, visible only as pale shafts of moonlight fell from above, she saw the murky shapes of two figures by the waterfall—two figures that were not there when Rook looked back up towards the curtain of falling water.

“A faerie-trick,” Ember said, breaking Rook’s concentration. “A veil to keep you from seeing him, and to keep her from seeing you.”

“Then I need to cross that veil.” Rook gripped the dagger Ember had given her.

“You will not cross it. You will destroy it.” She moved closer to Rook’s side, her expression a mix of surety and concern. “You have my power now to aid you, but do not underestimate him. It is no small task you seek to accomplish.” She met Rook’s gaze. “When you return, I will be gone.”

Rook started to speak, but Ember shook her head. “Fear not.” She placed a hand on Rook’s shoulder. It fit the burning brand perfectly. “We will meet again.”

Uncertainty pooled in Rook’s stomach, but she nodded. Ember smiled at her in the moonlight, then pushed her under the water.

Rook plunged through the surface of the pool... _ twice. _ As soon as the water hit her face she felt herself surging upwards into cool night air. She took a gasping breath as she stumbled to her feet, soaking wet. Ember was gone, but Rook’s lantern was still on the shore where she left it. The sound of a hardanger fiddle filled the air. Alyona sat under the pounding waterfall, hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut. The Nøkken stood next to her, just in front of the falls.

“ _ Bridget _ ,” he sneered, holding his fiddle high. “You decided to arrive.”

“Alyona!” Rook called, but Alyona’s eyes remained shut, her hands pressed against both ears to keep the sound of the Nøkken’s fiddle at bay. Rook could tell it was a futile gesture. The music was everywhere, wrapping around her and filling her head. The notes began tugging at her, pulling her towards the deepest part of the pool, begging her to sink and rest at the bottom of the stream.

Rook shook her head hard, clearing her mind of the music’s enchantment. The fey man’s smug expression soured, his eyes flashing angrily as he began playing on two strings at once. The music intensified, but Rook was already striding through the water towards Alyona. “Alyona! Alyona, It’s me!”

Alyona’s eyes flickered open. She looked up at Rook, and although her eyes were hazy with befuddlement and pain, recognition kindled within them.

Rook forced a reassuring smile onto her face. She reached out her hand. “Come home with me.”

Power, fire-hot, blossomed in Rook’s chest as she spoke the command, surging up her throat and ringing in her words with soft, indisputable authority. Alyona stared at her, then her hands dropped from her ears. Pushing against the pounding water of the falls, she forced herself to one foot, then the other. Almost in a daze she fell into the pool, her feet pulling her forward. Rook rushed forward and caught her, resisting the urge to hold her close and instead turning her away from the Nøkken and back to shore.

The Nøkken stared, eyes wide with disbelief, too stunned to stop her. “What? No! How did you do that?” Ending his song with a jarring halt, the Nøkken raised the bow to his fiddle and raked it across the strings with a jerking slash. A discordant shriek tore through the air from the fiddle, cutting painfully deep into Rook’s ears.

Rook gasped in pain, and Alyona let out a cry and clapped her hands over her ears again. Steeling herself, Rook took Alyona by the arms and pushed her back onto the shore of the pool. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll be back.” 

Alyona looked up at her, and nodded. Rook did her best to smile again for her, then turned back to the Nøkken.

Fury and hatred burned on his face. “Damn you!” he snarled. “How are you doing this?” He raised his bow for another strike across the strings, but Rook didn’t give him the chance. Charging forward, she threw her whole body against him. His form seemed to flicker, but she hit something, and the next thing she knew both of them were falling through the waterfall and into a dimly lit cave on the other side.

The Nøkken straightened out of the knee-deep water first. “I know not where you’ve filched this borrowed power, daughter of men, but it will not be enough to save you.” He slashed his bow across the fiddle. A second shriek filled the cave, amplified by echoes that rang off the wet stones. The sharp sound stabbed Rook’s ears and drove the breath from her lungs. 

She stumbled backwards, hitting a stone wall and gasping. She could feel Ember’s power building in her again. It was like liquid fire, pouring down her arms and legs. She was vaguely aware of steam coming off her wet skin. She didn’t respond to the Nøkken. Pulling the iron knife from her belt, she lunged.

Nøkken’s eyes widened as the iron came out. He recoiled from her, raising the hardanger fiddle in front of him in a desperate defense. Rook cut through the instrument, splintering wood and cutting strings with discordant snaps. The momentum of her wild blow carried her forward a few stumbling steps, and the form of the Nøkken flickered again as he dropped the ruined fiddle and jumped back. Baring his teeth, the Nøkken reached into the waterfall and pulled out a long, jagged blade of ice. Leaping at Rook, he thrust it at her exposed side. Rook tried to twist out of the way, but the faerie was too fast. Pain lanced across her ribs, but as the cold cut deep it was quickly replaced by a searing heat. The ice melted in Nøkken’s hand as he struck, and he jerked his hand back with a hiss.

Rook didn’t waste another moment. With a wordless shout, burning might pushing her forward, she put both hands on the iron knife and drove it straight into the Nøkken’s heart.

The sound of the roaring waterfall rushed in to fill the silence. Rook stumbled back, suddenly drained of strength. The dagger remained lodged in the Nøkken’s chest. He stared at it as he staggered against the wall of the cave, hands grasping the hilt even as his flesh around the blade began to turn black and hard. He fell into the water, and looked up at the human that killed him. 

“Rook,” he rasped with his last breath. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and within moments his body shriveled into a bony husk, half-submerged in the dark pool.

Rook stood there for a while, gulping breaths and staring. Closing her eyes, she turned away, and empty-handed she pushed her way through the waterfall and back out into the night.

She emerged from the waterfall and waded around the shallow edge of the pool towards the shore. The full moon peeked through the moving clouds, filling the night with silver and shadows. Alyona sat waiting next to Rook’s paper lantern. When she saw Rook she gave a shout and rushed towards her. They met at the water’s edge, holding each other hard and not letting go.

“I knew you’d save me,” Alyona whispered into Rook’s wet clothes.

Ember’s brand burned where Rook’s wet shirt clung to her back. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she pulled back and looked Alyona over. “Are you hurt? Can you walk back?”

Alyona shook her head. She was soaked and shivering, but she gave a thin smile. “I’m alright now.”

Rook nodded, and pulled her back into her arms for a few more moments. “Come on. Let’s go home.”


	6. Chapter 6

The forest seemed utterly normal as they walked back to Willamett’s End. No will-o’-wisps lit up the woods, no faerie songs drifted on the wind. Rook felt real and solid and so, so tired. Her hand and Alyona’s stayed clasped as they walked.

They heard voices as they approached the forest’s edge, and Rook saw the glimmer of light through the leaves. Kajsa, Tala, and Tanya the miller stood arguing near Teisen’s cottage. Teisen herself leaned on her cane nearby, not speaking. They all turned, words cut short as Rook and Alyona stepped out from the shadows of the forest. Tanya let out a cry and rushed to Alyona, catching her up in her arms. Tala followed, looking Alyona over with concern. Teisen, however, was staring at Rook with wide, frightened eyes.

“Bridget,” Teisen said, horrified. “What have you done?”

Everyone turned to look at Teisen, then Rook. “Teisen, what are you talking about—” Tala began.

“She saved me!” Alyona pulled herself from her mother’s arms. “She found me, and she saved me.”

Kajsa’s face darkened with suspicion. Teisen continued to stare at her, ashen-faced. Tala looked between Rook and the rest of them. “We can get the full story once they’re dry and have been looked after,” the priestess said. She looked at Teisen as if welcoming the younger woman to challenge her.

Teisen finally tore her gaze away from Rook. She stared at Tala for a moment, then nodded. Kajsa turned away from them all without a word and helped Teisen limp back inside, while Tala turned to Tanya and said, “We should get the children to the apothecary.” Tanya nodded, and as a group they started back towards the village.

Alyona didn’t let go of Rook’s hand the whole way, despite the occasional frown from her mother as they walked. Rook held on just as tightly. The relief she felt at defeating the Nøkken and rescuing Alyona was slowly draining into a hollow feeling inside her chest. She had bargained with a demon, and was marked for it. Her entire life had changed. The look on Teisen’s face had driven it home, and as they passed through Willamett’s End, even the houses seemed strange and unfamiliar. She clung to Alyona as if she were the last tether Rook had to her old life, to her home.

At the apothecary’s they were given dry clothes and hot tea. Rook insisted on dressing herself, and kept her back firmly to the wall so that no one would see the handprint on her shoulder. Jehan patched up the scrapes on Alyona’s arms and hands, and wrapped a thick bandage around the cut on Rook’s side. When Tanya asked Alyona to come home to the mill Alyona refused, saying she wanted to stay with Rook. Tanya looked dubiously over Rook, but didn’t object, only saying that she would return soon with fresh clothes and some food for her daughter.

Jehan gave them the spare bed he kept for patients, and granted them some privacy by way of leaving to make a fresh pot of tea in the main room. Rook and Alyona pressed close together under the blankets, weariness stealing the last of their strength as they held each other. Alyona laid her head on Rook’s chest, eyes closed, her breathing growing softer and more steady.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving me, Bridget.”

Rook kissed the top of her head. “Of course.”

“My Bridget.” Alyona smiled, her eyes still closed. “My Rook. My—”

Rook saw Alyona’s lips move. She felt the slight hum of her voice against her chest. But Rook could not hear the name that Alyona whispered. And she felt nothing as Alyona said it.

Rook froze. Feeling her body tense, Alyona raised her head. “What’s wrong?”

Softly, almost silently, Rook began to weep. Startled, Alyona pushed herself up on one elbow, eyes wide with concern. “Bridget? What is it?”

“I messed up.” She couldn’t look at Alyona. Her eyes stung with tears. “I messed up bad.” Haltingly, unable to stop the tears, she explained. “I—I couldn’t find you. The huntress couldn’t find you. I didn't know what to do."

"But you found me,” Alyona said. “You defeated the Nøkken.”

Rook blinked at the rafters of the cottage. "I needed the power to save you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. "So I…I made a deal. With a demon."

Alyona was very still. "What—what do you mean?"

Rook closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “A demon. I met her last year. She told me where to find Kaeli, without asking anything in return.”

“You never told me.”

Rook winced. “No,” she said. “I didn’t. She told me to call her if I needed help, and I did tonight. I needed to save you, and she gave me the power to do it. But…” 

Rook stopped, unable to speak, to put it into words. Alyona waited. The fact that she had listened to this much and was still here broke Rook's heart, but she couldn't stop now. "But she put a brand on me. And to do that, she had to take away my name."

"Your name? Your  _ true _ name?" Alyona stared at Rook, and Rook finally met her gaze.

"My true name. I can't remember it. And…and I can't hear you say it." Guilt welled up in her throat, and she had to lay her head back to keep it down.

Alyona was silent for a long time. Rook’s vision was blurry with tears, and she looked away in shame. Then she felt Alyona’s soft hand on her cheek. 

“You saved me,” she said.

Rook looked up at her. Alyona’s face was serious, but she looked into Rook’s eyes without fear. “You saved me,” she said again. “Whatever comes next, we can figure it out. Together."

A fresh sob shook Rook’s body and she pulled Alyona close, her tears falling into Alyona’s hair. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Alyona nuzzled closer. "You're welcome."

They were asleep by the time Jehan brought them tea.


	7. Chapter 7

Rook slowly climbed the hill towards Teisen’s cottage. Below her, cows grazed in the pasture and smoke rose from the baker’s oven. She had only gotten a few hours’ sleep in Jehan’s apothecary before Alyona’s mother had come to take her home. They promised to meet up later that day, but there was a conversation Rook needed to have first.

The door was open when she reached the cottage. Rook hesitated a few steps away, then stepped up and knocked lightly on the doorframe.

“Come in, Bridget.” Teisen’s voice was serious, reserved. Swallowing her nervousness, Rook stepped inside. The woman that everyone said was a witch sat at her table, tying bundles of herbs together and setting them in a pile. She didn’t look up from her work as Rook entered. Kajsa was nowhere to be seen.

Rook didn’t want to be the first to speak, and stood quietly while Teisen worked. After a long, painful silence Teisen said, without looking up, “Your name. It’s missing.”

A heavy weight settled on Rook’s shoulders, and she almost fell onto the bench across from Teisen. “Yes. It is.”

Teisen set aside the twine and lavender in her hands and looked at Rook. “You are meddling in incredibly dangerous forces, Bridget. There is always a price for dealing with spirits of Chaos, as I suspect you now know, and it will grow higher and higher until it is finally too much for you to pay.”

Rook’s hands curled into fists and she looked up at Teisen, tears in the corners of her eyes. “What else was I supposed to do?” she demanded. “We were supposed to be safe here last night! Kajsa wouldn’t have found Alyona in time! She left me alone and said it was  _ all my fault!” _

Teisen watched Rook sadly. When Rook finished shouting she said, “I know. And I am sorry. I was too assured of my own skill, and I underestimated how far the Nøkken would go to hurt you. I underestimated the warnings that prompted me to name you in the first place." Teisen sighed. "And my wife...she was wrong. She let her fear control her actions, and her words.” She met Rook’s eyes and held them. “We let you down, Bridget. And I am so, so sorry.”

Anger drained out of Rook, and she slumped in her seat, tears still in her eyes.

“Tell me what happened.”

Slowly, Rook did. She told Teisen everything she didn’t know, from meeting Ember last Midwinter to slaying Nøkken with an iron knife. When she finished, Teisen was silent for a long time.

“What does this mean?” Rook asked.

Teisen sighed again. “The knowledge of your true name falling into the hands of a fiend is dangerous enough. But to pass possession of it over to a dark spirit?” She shook her head. “I have never heard of such a thing. If you asked me yesterday, I would have said it was impossible.”

“Fiend?” Rook repeated. “Is Ember really...I mean, she helped me—”

Teisen’s eyes hardened. “Bridget, whatever you do, you must not trust this creature. Demons are beings of corruption, and there is no telling what she can do with your true name now that she has it. Influence the world through the connection you’ve forged? Take control of you completely? I cannot guess.”

A chill fell over Rook despite the morning sun streaming through the window. “So I’m a danger.” She felt Ember’s brand burn on her left shoulder, almost as if thinking about her caused it to grow warmer. “Is there nothing you can do?” she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.

Teisen did not speak immediately. “I do not know how to undo what you’ve done,” she said. “Even if I did, I am not certain it would be within my power to do so.”

Rook hadn’t realized she had been holding on to the hope that Teisen would be able to fix everything, but she felt it break inside her at Teisen’s words.

Teisen watched Rook’s shoulders fall. “However,” she began, and held up her hand as Rook looked desperately back up at her. “I don’t know if you will find a solution to your predicament,” she warned, “but I do know someone who knows the way of names better than I. She gave me my true name, many years ago.”

Rook sat up straight. “Who is she? Where can I find her?”

“Her name is Maeve. She was old then, and she will be even older now. Last I knew, she lived in Aldwell.” Teisen leveled a serious gaze at Rook. “It is a several month’s journey down the King’s Road, a journey that is not without danger. But you may find answers there.”

Rook nodded, feeling only a little numb. Part of her had already suspected that she couldn’t stay in Willamett’s End after what had happened. Most of her still didn’t want to believe it. She thought of Alyona, and her throat tightened.

Teisen got to her feet and limped over to one of the many shelves that lined her cottage, where she retrieved a small leather pouch and handed it to Rook. “Here.” Rook pulled it open to find it was full of iron shavings and powdered silver.

“The charm Tala taught you should protect you against all manner of spirits, including this one,” Teisen said. “I pray it will be strong enough. And under no circumstances should you use the gifts she has granted you, or reach out to her again.”

Rook nodded stiffly and tied the pouch shut. “Tala—” she began, then stopped. The thought of having to explain the entire story over again to the priestess overwhelmed her.

Teisen placed a hand on her shoulder. “I will explain things to her. You have a long journey to prepare for.”

Rook nodded again and stood. Letting out a shaky breath, she tucked the pouch into her belt turned to leave.

“Bridget?” Teisen called after her. Rook turned to see her standing by the door, looking sad.

“Yes?”

“Good luck.”

The morning was waning when Rook got back to town. A few people, including the visiting harper, were still cleaning up the last of the tables and other signs of celebration in the village square. Rook avoided them and slipped into the common room of the inn. It was blessedly empty, save for Elias scraping ash out of the hearth. He looked up as Rook closed the door.

“Good morning!” His smile faded as he looked at her. “Bridget? What is it?”

“Has Alyona stopped by?” Rook asked, her voice hollow.

“No, not today. Bridget, what’s wrong?”

Rook took a few steps into the inn and almost fell onto a nearby stool. Leaning over the table, she buried her face in her hands.

There was the scrape of a stool next to her and Rook felt a hand on her right shoulder. “Maedran?” Elias called. “Lock the door, and ask Galen to bring out a pot of tea.”

Rook raised her head. Elias smiled down at her, and kept a strong, fatherly arm around her shoulders. It wasn’t long before Maedran and Galen arrived, carrying a small iron pot of tea and four clay cups. The innkeepers sat around her, letting her sip at the hot tea for a few minutes before Elias asked softly, “What’s happened, Bridget?”

Rook opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she was about to try again with there was a push on the bolted door. A few frantic knocks followed, as well as the call of Alyona’s voice from outside.

Rook started to stand, but Elias’s firm hand kept her seated as he rose to answer the door instead. He let Alyona in, who hurried inside with a worried expression. She rushed over to Rook and took her hand.

“What did Teisen say?” she asked. “Was she able to fix it?” Rook’s eyes welled with fresh tears, and Alyona sat down. “Oh. Oh, no.”

Elias put the bolt on the door back and sat down next to his husbands. “Did something happen last night?” he asked softly.

Rook looked at the men that had practically become family the last few years, and back at Alyona. She still looked nervous, uncertain—she had since Rook had told her about Ember—but she was still here.

“Take your time, Bridget.” Maedran said.

Rook closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Starting with last Midsummer, she recounted the entire story, not going into great detail about her experiences in the forest or with Ember but without denying the consequences. She finished by repeating what Teisen had told her that morning.

When she was done, the four of them looked at her with worried expressions. Alyona spoke first. “You have to go? But—but they should be able to fix this! Teisen, or Tala, or—”

Elias put a hand on her shoulder. “Adults don’t always have the answers,” he said calmly. He looked at Rook, his eyes sad. “And sometimes we make mistakes.”

Rook began to speak, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but Elias shook his head. “Aldwell isn’t too far,” he said to Alyona before turning back to Rook. “I can’t say I truly understand what’s going on—”

“She needs to discover who she is,” Maedran said simply. “And she can’t very well do that here.”

“I’m going to make you something for the road,” Galen said, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

Alyona looked at Rook. “When are you leaving?” she asked, her voice quiet.

Rook felt the lump return in her throat. “I think I should go now,” she said hoarsely. If she didn’t go soon, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to at all. But she couldn’t stay, not after Teisen’s revelation that she could be a danger to everyone around her.

Elias shook his head. “You  _ might _ make it down to the King’s Road before the sun sets, but it would be far wiser to leave in the morning. Besides, you should see your family before you leave.”

Rook flinched. “I—I can’t. I can’t see them.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Alyona squeezed her hand. “I’ll go with you.”

“You can come back here for the night if staying at the farm is too much,” Elias said. “We’ll get on the road by first light.”

After a few deep breaths Rook nodded, smiling her thanks at both of them. Maedran fetched them some leftover pies for the road, and Rook and Alyona headed out towards Splitbrook Farm.

Afternoon was well on its way by the time they arrived. The crowd of Rook’s brothers and cousins welcomed them in for a late lunch, no one seeming to notice the concern they carried. Disengaging from the kitchen table, Rook asked Aunt Muriel where her mother was.

“Oh, she’s out in the pasture, repairing that fence again,” she said. Rook thanked her, and after making sure Alyona was knew where she was going, she headed out towards the south pasture.

She found her mother pounding in a fencepost, alone save for a goat grazing nearby. She straightened up and smiled as Rook approached. “Hey bug, how are you doing? I didn’t see you at the festival yesterday.”

Tears welled up in Rook’s throat, the impossibility of the night before catching up with her in the face of her mother fixing a fence in the corner of her farm. She didn’t know how she could possibly explain what had happened again. Not to her mother.

“Woah, hey,” her mother said, leaving the fence and putting her hands on Rook’s arms. “What’s wrong, bug?”

“I've messed up bad, Mom,” Rook choked. “I—things have gone all wrong. But I’m going to try to fix it.” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Teisen is sending me to someone she knows on the King’s Road. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Her mother blinked at her in surprise for a few moments, but then pulled her into a tight hug. Rook let out a sob as she hugged her mother back.

“I always knew you were special,” her mother said. “Different. But special. If you say you have to do this, then you should go do it.” She pulled back, her face kind and understanding. “Just promise me you’ll take care of my girl, alright? And come home soon.”

Fresh tears fell down Rook’s cheeks. “I will,” she promised, hugging her mother again.

Rook’s mother rocked her slightly back and forth. “Stay safe, bug,” she whispered.

Rook nodded. “Always.”

Rook spent her last night in Willamett’s End at the inn. She had collected a few of her things from the farm—some spare clothes, her winter coat, and a tin of boot grease went into a shoulder satchel with her cards, a tinderbox, and her smoking pipe. Alyona went back home for a short while, before coming back and informing Rook that she would be spending the night with her.

“What—what does your mother think of that?” Rook asked.

“She can think what she wants, it’s what I’m doing,” Alyona replied.

Galen had, in fact, saved them some strawberry cream tarts from the night before. He served them with rosemary peas, sorrel and salmon, and lavender ale. The three innkeepers made her go to bed early, promising they’d finish preparations for her journey in the morning.

Rook and Alyona went upstairs to the room where they had spent the thunderstorm together last spring. They laid in bed together as night deepened outside, crying, kissing lips wet with tears, and holding each other as if their closeness now could lessen the distance the morning would bring.

Sleep took them both eventually, but Rook found rest elusive. Her eyes were open, arms wrapped around Alyona’s sleeping form, as the darkness of the room lessened bit by bit with the dim, grey light of pre-dawn. When she heard sounds from the kitchen below, she knew it was time. Gently waking Alyona, the two of them got dressed and walked down to the common room below.

Elias, Medran, and Galen were all awake, but there was no one else up in the inn at that hour. Galen served them spicy tea and hot porridge with honey, then went back to the kitchen for a fresh loaf of bread, a few unripe peaches, and a round of cheese to put in Rook’s satchel. He had also baked a pair of hot egg and vegetable pies, which he wrapped in cloth and put in her bag as well.

“Space those out,” he said as Rook slung the satchel across her chest. “You’ll want something hot to eat a few hours down the road.”

Rook nodded and promised she would. Maedran came up to her next, holding a sturdy walking staff and a dark bundle in his hands. “This should be useful,” he said, raising the staff with a smile. “As should this.” When Rook looked at the bundle questioningly, he grinned and unfurled it into a long, grey cloak. It was made of heavy-looking wool, with a hood and a plain bronze clasp.

“Thank you,” Rook said, amazed. Alyona helped her put it on, and pinned the brooch for her with a solemn expression.

“It’s the least we could do,” Elias said. “Here. Take these, too.” He held out his hand and dropped seven silver coins into Rook’s open palm.

Rook stared at the wealth in her hand. She blinked. “Elias, I can’t—”

“You will.” Elias looked serious. “Aldwell is not far, but the roads have not been the safest of late. When you come down out of the valley, you can find a farmstead a few hours east of where Willamett’s Tread meets the King’s Road. You might do well to wait there, and trade a silver piece to a carter or a caravan to carry you. There will be safety in numbers.”

Rook swallowed and nodded, tucking the coins away into a pocket. Alyona’s hand slipped into hers and gave it a squeeze.

“If you make good time, you can be back before winter,” Galen said.

Maedran’s eyes twinkled at her from behind his spectacles. “Keep an eye on the stars,” he said. “They have more guidance than they let on.”

Rook looked at him curiously before Elias placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll always have a home here, Bridget,” he said, smiling. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

Rook blinked back tears and gave him a hug. He returned it fondly before he and his husbands stepped back to give her and Alyona some space.

Rook turned to Alyona, but before she could say anything Alyona wrapped her arms around her and buried her face in Rook’s chest. Rook pulled her close and breathed in the scent of her hair.

“I’ll come back soon,” Rook whispered. “I love you.”

“I know,” Alyona said, holding back tears. “I love you too.”

As they hugged, Rook felt Alyona’s hands on her back, resting on her shoulder blades. Through several layers of linen and wool Alyona’s right hand pressed into the brand behind Rook’s left shoulder, almost perfectly fitting over the handprint Ember had burned onto Rook’s skin. A strange sensation filled her, a prickling along the brand, and she withdrew from the embrace far enough that Alyona’s arms fell around her waist instead.

Alyona looked up at her, and Rook pushed thoughts of Ember and the pact as far away as possible. Leaning in, Rook kissed Alyona softly, slowly, neither of them wanting to rush. When they finally stepped apart, Maedran offered Rook the walking staff while Elias opened the door.

The sun was just barely beginning to peek over the eastern peaks outside. The first few rays of clear light pierced through the hazy morning air, touching parts of the mountains and the village with gold while leaving others in grey. Taking a deep breath, Rook shifted the satchel a little, took the staff, and stepped outside.

The early morning air was clean and cold. Rook looked behind her. The innkeepers and Alyona stood just beyond the threshold of the inn, watching her. Rook did her best to smile at them, and Alyona gave a strained, sad smile back. Breathing out slowly, Rook turned back towards the path. Taking one step forward, and then another, Rook followed the road away from her home and out into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! That's where we left Rook the Warlock. I've been running D&D for a very, very long time, but this was absolutely my favorite game I've ever run. I can't wait to find out what happens next.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading along! Writing up seven or eight sessions of play in such exhausting detail was a lot of work, so i don't know if I can keep it up as we continue Rook's adventures, but I'll keep it in mind.


End file.
